conversation piece

There is an issue with the chair. Not my chair, a borrowed chair, from a friend of the family. A chair to help me remain mobile in the kitchen. I can sit down and cut up vegetables for stir fry and not worry about feeling dizzy and a leg going numb. A chair was the idea of my physical therapist so that I could take some pressure off of my body focusing needed energy on functioning and once in awhile, which burner I have on or how much time left for a batch of oatmeal raisin cookies. I asked for a chair and the request fell, but NOT on deaf ears. And each time I asked, it was mentioned that we did not need anymore oatmeal raisin cookies.

The mention of a chair, similar to this, but my vision was different, created long standing silence and resentment. The chair represented more than an aide. It represented the realization that I was NOT getting better and the spiral had begun. Out of sight, out of mind. No chair, no issue but no comfort for eric. It was thought The chair was to limit me, limit my focus and limit my existence. Strike that and reverse it.

So when I saw the chair sitting there the other morning I said nothing. I listened as the friend told me she wanted me to have it, to borrow it. The chair was not being used and she had mentioned that over again, but NOT on deaf ears. She recommended the chair be placed on the other side of the counter top, less cluttered and possibly more functional. The chair has not moved. My father saw the chair over his cart, 'What's this?' and silence abound.

My mother placed the cushion over the chair, possibly claiming borrowed ownership, for I did not see a scratch in the wood grain. I was asked to put patches of felt, black or brown circles, on the leg bottoms so The chair would not scratch the tile floor. The chair sits...